“Down there!” a man’s voice shouted from above. “Stop!”

Rowan didn’t look up.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat metal tool.

“Hold the light steady on the keyhole,” he commanded.

My hands were shaking so badly the beam danced across the steel door.

“Maren, steady,” he said, his voice incredibly calm.

I gripped the flashlight with both hands, bracing my elbows against my ribs.

The light settled on the keyway.

Rowan inserted the tool, his fingers moving with practiced, military precision.

“One,” he muttered to himself.

A tiny, sharp click echoed in the small space.

“Two.”

“They’re coming!” I whispered.

The boots were only one flight up now.

“Three,” Rowan said.

A guard rounded the landing above, his weapon raised.

“Step away from the door!” the guard yelled.

I didn’t think.

I swung the heavy metal flashlight, throwing it with all my strength at the guard’s face.

It missed his head but struck his arm, throwing his shot wide.

The gun fired.

The noise was deafening in the concrete stairwell, a sharp crack that left my ears ringing.